


Argent

by TheMulletWhisperer



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Colors, F/M, Foreshadowing, I wasn't high when I wrote this I swear, More Colors Too Also As Well, Plots?, Surreal, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMulletWhisperer/pseuds/TheMulletWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reality isn't always so easy to discern as we like to think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Argent

**Author's Note:**

> Argent - silver; silvery white.

Galina wasn’t sure where she’d come from, or how she’d found herself here, but in the back of a Thalmor prison escort, surrounded by several Nords who looked both terrified and angry at the same time was not a good sign. The interior of the cart smelled distinctly of steel and iron, and was much warmer than she’d expected. On either side of the cart, Thalmor warriors sat, armed with spears that seemed collapsible in order to accommodate the low ceiling. Everything around her was quiet, save for the breathing of the surrounding Nords.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that there was something wrong. She couldn’t hear the horses outside, the cart wasn’t bouncing, yet was very noticeably moving. Yet the thought never connected to her mind as a whole, screaming to be released from the back. Everything was eerily silent and the breathing seemed to grow louder in her ears. Even as she shuffled her feet on the floor, that little part of her brain registered that it made no sounds.

For an indeterminable amount of time, the cart continued on before something shattered the silence. A roar. A distinct roar. Dragons. 

Almost immediately, fire began climbing the walls of the cart and swirling around the occupants, who remained oddly complacent in the face of impending doom. Galina sprung to her feet, that ever-ignored voice in the back of her head telling her that just moments ago the ceiling had been lower to the ground. Once again disregarding it, she sprinted forward and slammed into the back of the cart. Though it took a few hits, she managed to break the lock from the door and tumble out just in time for the singular cart to burst into flame. 

As she stood, a facefull of moist dirt became a forest--though not just any forest. This forest was blanketed in a black as dark as the void, the trees colorless and glowing an odd silver color that seemed to have no source. Both in front and behind, the road led off into the suffocating blackness. Not even the flame of the cart illuminated her surroundings.

The cart.

The cart was gone.

Galina looked around, spinning in place until she forgot which direction was which. By now, she should’ve registered that something was off, yet all she felt was confusion. 

From the corner of her eye, she caught something--someone--slip between the trees to her right. Instantly, she took off in the direction of the movement, moving forward through the silver forest. As she sprinted deeper, the land began to twist and warp around her, yet she continued forward without so much as a pause. Only when she tripped over something and fell into the leaves did she stop. 

Looking behind her, she noted what she’d tripped over; a branch. No. Not a branch. A body, clad in full Thalmor armor. Galina crawled over to it, rolling it over. The face was distinct, no mistaking it.

Arkved.

Somehow, she was unable to muster up any emotion at the sight of the elf lying dead and bloodied on the ground. As she looked up, her surroundings had changed. Now, she stood in Winterhold, just as she’d seen in the paintings and drawings. Beneath her, the body that had once been her love slowly faded into snowflakes and disappeared in the wind. 

The Nord stood up, only peripherally noting that she’d somehow changed from her usual black attire to a silk dress, and that her hair now curled and flowed, softer than her dress, and rested at her mid-back. Once empty, the town was now filled with onlookers, cheering and clapping for her--albeit markedly muted.

Civilians lined the streets and created a path for her to walk along the snow-covered cobblestones, and at the end sat a regal and rather pale throne. Galina started towards the throne intently, the snow fleeing from beneath her boots as they fell atop the stone pathway.

Upon reaching the throne, she sank down and sat, watching as the onlookers congregated before her. Through her far thicker hair, she felt a fleeting cold and a newfound weight. Reaching up with a hand, she felt the object that had been rested atop her head--a crown, frigid to the touch. Returning her hand to her side, she looked over the beautiful city. Her gaze froze on the face of a single citizen--a little girl. In what seemed like seconds after she had locked eyes with the small, blonde child, her surroundings began decaying, as did the people. Walls crumbling and being rebuilt, only to crumble again, homes collapsing in and the builders returning the the dust they had come from. The last to go was the ground beneath her. Galina’s throne landed on a glacial outcrop as she fell towards the arctic waters below with a calmness about her.

As she landed on her back in the water, she found herself quite suddenly in the rocky creek just beneath the bridge into Whiterun, clothed once again in her combat gear, with her hair cropped close. Standing, she ascended the small incline and looked around, just in time to see a group of people running in through the gates. She followed, the guards shutting the heavy doors behind her. Surprisingly quickly, the streets had emptied and she caught only a fleeting glance at those ascending the steps into the Wind District. A flash of amber hair caught her eye. Arkved.

Taking off into a sprint, she blew through the empty streets, sliding around a corner and ascending the steps. As she entered the Wind District, however, she noticed something was wrong. Something had changed. Once again, she found herself in the black she had started in, with a single, silver tree standing where the Gildergreen once did. A quick glance behind her revealed that the gate into the markets had been swallowed by the same void that surrounded her.

Approaching the tree, she ran her fingers down the trunk, which was quite cold to the touch. As her fingertips glided down the tree, words appeared, engraved in the gray wood, “Queen.”

A feminine voice whispered in her head, “Galina…”

=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

“Galina. Galina are you awake?” Arkved shook her bare shoulder, both worried and confused. She’d been saying rather odd things in her sleep, as had she been tossing about.   
Something was wrong, he just couldn’t tell what.

Luckily, she mumbled and rolled onto her back, her eyes slowly peeling open. Turning her head to look at him, she spoke with a rather tired voice, “Mmm..Arkved?”  
He couldn’t help but smile, brushing his fingers along her cheek, “You were talking in your sleep.”

“Yeah...I think I was dreaming.”

“Dreaming?”

“About you or something..”

“So, I am even the master of your dreams?”

“What?”

“I’m superior to all your other dreams.”

Galina blinked at him a couple of times, “I’m going back to sleep.”

“I’m going back to superior sleep.”

“Goodnight, Arkved.”

“Goodnight, inferior human.”

**Author's Note:**

> I got weird inspiration for this from a dream I had during a nap after a lecture. It was a weird dream.


End file.
